Transcript

Uair éigin fadó do chónaigh triúr deartháir i ndeisceart Éireann le hais na farraige theas. Triúr iascairí dob ea an triúr so. Tadhg, Seán agus Dónall a n-ainmneacha. Níl a fhios agam cad í an sloinne do bhí orthu. Is cosmhail gur triúr d'fhearaibh bochta a bhí iarracht alltha an triúr so. Ní raibh aon eolas ar scríobh ná ar léamh acu. Ní raibh fiú an Teagasc Críostaí acu. Agus ní rabhadar riamh in aon scoil. Ní raibh d'eolas saoltha acu ach amháin go rabhadar ina mbádaeirí cumasacha tréana, agus go rabhadar go haicillí agus go cruinn chun na hiascaireachta. Ní raibh do shaibhreas saoltha acu ach aon bhád amháin agus fálthas líonta. Agus ní cóir an méid sin féin do mholadh, mar bhí an bád ag dreo agus ag dul i gcríonnacht. Is gnáthach go dtéadh an triúr amach gach lá ar an bhfarraige i bhfochair a chéile. Agus do bhí an saol ag éirí leo go hámharach ar feadh roinnt bhlianta.

Lá áirithe d'imigh an triúr agus chuadar amach ar an bhfarraige ag iascaireacht. Do bhí an lá go breá agus go ciúin agus go grianach, agus dá bhrí sin do chuadar i bhfad amach ins an uisce. Ní raibh ach na líonta leogtha síos acu nuair a tháinig gaoth. D'éirigh an ghaoth chun go raibh sí ina stoirm uafásaigh[1]. Thugadar iarracht ar theacht abhaile, ach theip san orthu mar is ón dtír do bhí an ghaoth ag teacht. Do bhíodar i gcruachás. Ní raibh a fhios acu cad ab fhearra dhóibh a dhéanamh. Fé dheireadh, dúirt duine acu gur mhaith an rud paidir a rá agus iarraidh ar Dhia iad do thabhairt slán. D'aontaigh an bheirt eile leis an méid sin. Ach ansan d'éirigh an cheist féachaint cé déarfadh an phaidir. Dúradar gan amhras gurbh é Tadhg mar gurbh é an fear ba shine é. Ó, do dhiúlthaigh Tadhg láithreach. Dúirt sé nár airigh sé féin riamh paidir ag teacht ó bhéal aon duine agus nár fhoghlaimigh sé paidir, agus conas (dh')fhéadfadh sé í a rá agus gan í aige.

Ansan d'iarradar ar Sheán, an tara fear, an phaidir do rá. Ó, do dhiúlthaigh Seán. "Airiú," arsa Seán, ar seisean, "níor chuireas aon tsuim riamh i nDia. Níor chuireas aon aithne air, agus níor chuir sé aon aithne orm ach chomh beag, agus níl fhios aige go bhfuilim ann in aon chor."

Ansan d'iarradar ar Dhónall, an fear ab óige, an phaidir a rá. Agus tar éis greas tathaint a dhéanamh air thosnaigh sé, agus seo mar dúirt sé an phaidir. D'ardaigh sé suas a dhá láimh go hard os cionn a chinn agus d'fhéach sé suas sna spéartha. "Ó, a Dhia agus a Thiarna an Domhain," ar seisean, "tabhair saor sinn! Tá sé anois bliain agus fiche ó dúrtsa an phaidir dheireanach agus ó iarras aon ní ort, agus geallaim ó chroí dhuit go mbeidh sé bliain agus fiche arís sara n-iarrfad aon ní eile ort ach tabhair saor ón dturas so sinn."

B'é toil an (tailimh) go dtánadar saor, mar is dócha go ndúirt Dónall an phaidir ó chroí. Sin a bhfuil ann.

Translation

Sometime long ago there lived three brothers in the south of Ireland by the southern sea. These three were fishermen. Tadhg, Seán and Dónall were their names. I don't know what their surname was. Evidently these three men were poor and somewhat wild. They had no knowledge of writing or reading. They didn't even know their Catechism. And they had never gone to school. The only worldly knowledge they had was that they were strong and able boatsmen, and that they were agile and skilful at fishing. The only worldly wealth they had was a single boat and a quantity of nets. And even that was nothing to boast of because the boat was decaying and getting old. The three of them usually went out to sea together every day. And they had good fortune in life for a few years.

One day the three set off and went fishing out to sea. The day was fine and calm and sunny, and so they went very far out on the water. They had only just cast their nets when a wind started up. The wind became stronger until it became a terrible storm. They made an attempt at coming home but this failed as the wind was offshore. They were in a fix. They did not know what they ought to do. Eventually, one of them said it would be good to say a prayer and to ask God to save them. The other two agreed with this, but then the question arose as to who would say the prayer. They said that it would be Tadhg of course as he was the eldest. Oh, but Tadhg refused immediately. He said he never heard a prayer from anyone's lips, and that he hadn't learned a prayer, and how could he say it if he didn't know it.

Then they asked Seán, the second man, to say the prayer. Oh, but Seán refused. "Ah," said Seán, he said, "I was never interested in God. I never got to know Him, and He never got to know me either, and He doesn't know that I exist at all."

Then they asked Dónall, the youngest man, to say the prayer. And after they had pressed him for a while he began, and this is how he said the prayer. He raised his two hands high above his head and he looked skywards. "O God and Lord of the World," he said, "save us! It is now twenty-one years since I last said a prayer and since I asked anything of you, and I promise with all my heart that it will be another twenty-one years before I ask anything else of you, but deliver us safely from this trip!"

It was the will of the land (?) that they return safely, as Dónall probably said the prayer from the heart. That's all there is.

Footnotes

Commentary

This story appears to describe a central motif of prayer calming a storm at sea. In this regard, it bears some similarity to medieval exempla, and some international folk motifs, including V254.2 Ship in storm saved because of sailors’ Ave Maria, and D2141.1 Storm magically stilled. See Stith Thompson, Motif-index of folk literature (Bloomington, Ind., 1955-8). It is similar to an exemplum, #4649 Storm at sea, Virgin aids. See Frederic C. Tubach, Index exemplorum (Helsinki, 1981). Similar narratives have been documented in early Irish literature, in an ecclesiastical context. For example, an episode from the Life of St. Colum Cille saw Saint Cainnech praying to God, who calmed the turbulent sea. See Andrew Kelleher, 'Betha Coluimb Chile', Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie 10 (1915), 228-65: 263. A comparable episode from medieval literature depicts Saint Brendan praying during a storm, and the sea miraculously calming. See Rudolf Thurneysen, 'Eine Variant der Brendan Legende', Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie 10 (1915), 408-20: 418. An international folktale, ATU 973 Man as sacrifice to the storm, has Christian variants where a man's confession of sins during a storm at sea causes the threatening weather to cease. See Hans Jorg Uther, The types of international folktales: a classification and bibliography (3 vols, Helsinki, 2004). It is possible that the current narrative was influenced by such a tale, which was known in early Medieval Ireland in relation to St. Mochta. See Charles Plummer, Vitae Sanctorum Hiberniae (London, 1910), 149. Finally, the motif could possibly have been influenced by the Biblical account of Jesus calming a storm at sea, as told in the Gospel account (Mark 4:35-40), although the case for this remains unclear. See Robert Carroll and Stephen Prickett, The Bible: authorised King James version (Oxford, 1998), 49.